


The Drunken Feels

by BenignIdealist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, homogay, this is honestly horrifying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenignIdealist/pseuds/BenignIdealist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A’ight so John has a homocrush that he beats back (as well as one can beat down a homocrush) and the kids all survive their first year of college<br/>non sburb au<br/>drunken shenanigans may or may not ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drunken Feels

**Author's Note:**

> oh gosh oh jeez  
> this is my first real thing i'm posting and goodness gracious i'm making myself sick with nervousness  
> oh christ  
> tumblr mirror if anybody wants it  
> http://benignidealist.tumblr.com/post/32291813307/the-drunken-feels

Your name is John Egbert. You are sixteen tears old, and you hate puberty. Really you do. You’re still chubby (even more so now- fuck you’re fat and you hate it. 234 lbs is far too much for a kid who’s 5’ 11” to weigh) and yeah you’ve gotten a lot taller but you’re still pretty baby faced and ugh you don’t like it. You’re glad acne isn’t a big issue for you. Yeah you get zits, but that’s mostly when you’re really stressed or you eat a lot of junk food or forget to wash your face in the mornings (one time is all it takes. Euck.).  
Also, you are gay. Or something. You’re not really sure what you are. You’re not very well acquainted with sexualities beyond gay and not gay. You don’t mind girls, you’ve never really liked looking at them past the fact that they’re pretty and smooth and curves are cute but… You’ve never really wanted a girl. A boy either, really. But gosh, you’re crushing hard, on none other than /the/ Dave Strider.  
Your best friend.  
Most definitely a guy.  
You’re not sure what to make of that.  
But you like him.  
And yeah, okay.  
You want him.  
Sometimes you wish you were a lady, so you wouldn’t have to worry about letting your mind wander and popping awkward boners. You feel sort of bad, when you touch yourself, because its always to fantasies of Dave.  
Dave standing in front of you.  
Dave moving forwards and pinning you against his bedroom wall.  
Dave mashing your lips together and kissing you as hard as he can (which couldn’t happen anyways, you’ve got stupid braces still too).  
Dave holding your hips, grinding the bulge in his tight jeans against the one in your loose khaki shorts, you reaching around to grip his ass as you rock together.  
Dave guiding you back towards the bed, tipping you onto the mattress when the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the metal frame.  
Dave kneeling over you, hands in your hair, pulling your face up to his groin to mouth at the protrusion through denim, your fingers digging into his ass and thighs as you comply more than willingly.  
Dave moaning, pulling off his shades so you can look at his eyes (you’ve never gotten to see them, you think they’re probably blue, with him being from the Ukraine and being so fair haired and skinned and such), holding your gazes locked as you undo his jeans, shoving them down his hips and watching him twitch through his underwear.  
Dave petting your hair as you lap at the wet spot right at the peak of his bulge.   
Dave letting out a whine when you drop your head back to work him through the fabric with your hand.  
Dave hissing at you to get on with it as you pull his underwear down over his hips and kiss along his angel wings, resting your lips on his cock head.  
Dave whispering your name over and over like a prayer as you take him into your mouth.  
Dave pulling your hair, hard, as you take him all the way into your throat.  
Dave gripping your hair as he fucks your mouth.  
Dave holding you steady as he comes into you.  
Fuck.  
Fuck, you’re almost done.  
You pump your hand a little faster, moaning out Dave’s name as you finish, imagining Dave lapping your blast of off your fingers, laughing a little bit and snuggling down beside you.

Okay.  
Shut up.  
Okay.  
Yeah.  
Yeah you’ve thought about this a lot. You’re a little worried that this thing for Dave is more than just hormonal lust though.  
Sex isn’t all you want from him.  
You really, really want to hold his hands.  
While you’re sitting at home on your dad’s sofa, laying all over each other, holding his hands as he pokes fun at your choice of movies that you like less and less because they’re actually good ( most of them actually aren’t ) and more because you get to hear him talk some more.  
For someone who’s so quiet most of the time, he sure liked to talk a lot.  
You want to cuddle with him.  
You want to wake up in the mornings with Dave. You want to live with Dave and be with Dave and fuck you’ve got it bad.  
You’re scared to be in love with Dave.

——

Your name is John Egbert. You are twenty one and you are in college. You’ve grown to be 6’7” and you still weigh about 220lbs, but you worked out a lot in high school and you’d like to think you’re proud of the way you’ve filled out now, in the attractive strong way, and not the gross disgusting fat way.  
You think the is the closest you’ll ever get to living out your fantasy. Dave is your roommate, and you’re really happy for that.  
You love getting to wake Dave up in the mornings, by opening his door quietly and then cooking breakfast. Dave’s always roused by the smell of coffee and food. You love how he makes dumb jokes about you making a good wife for a lucky lady some day.  
Sometimes he’ll make jokes about you being a really butch lesbian and that actually upset you a lot but you laugh anyways because it’s Dave and you can’t help it.  
Actually a lot of things Dave does sort of upset you but you know you’re actually really sensitive to most things so you don’t mention them, because a lot of things that upset you are actually perfectly okay things to do.  
You don’t mention your worries, and try not to think about them when there’s anybody else around, especially Dave.  
You particularly don’t want Dave to know.  
Considering he unknowingly supplies most of your unease. He teases you a lot, and even though you know he means no harm at all, he’s just teasing you playfully, it tends to really hurt you.  
You used to sing and hum a lot, especially when you were cooking or working, until one morning Dave called out of his room one morning.  
You’d been making breakfast as per the usual routine, singing the way you usually did, but when Dave called out, moving tiredly out of his room and into the kitchen, the first thing he did was ask you to put a blanket over the birdcage because it was too early to have to listen to that fucker chirping away.  
You laughed along and smiled, apologizing gently- which he promptly dismissed- but you don’t sing anymore.  
You don’t want to. It isn’t fun anymore. Sometime you hum, when you’re not paying attention, but Dave usually comments on it, teasing you about being a songbird or something, and you cut it out pretty quickly.  
Dave was the reason you started working out too, in eleventh grade when you started to get really fat and gross. You were laying around playing video games at your house, and Dave rolled over, laying half on you, and made a comment about how god damned comfy you were, and told you to ignore the people at school that made fun of you because you would always be the best pillow he’d ever have.  
After he went home you got on your computer and looked up a bunch of shit about weight loss, and you started working out even though it was embarrassing at first because you were no good.  
By the time you graduated and made it into college you were (nearly) satisfied with your weight and fitness level, though you would still never be caught dead without a shirt on anywhere, and you never learned how to swim anyways, so you sat on the beach whenever you went with your friends, and watched them all have fun swimming about and doing their tanning thing.  
You made a huge effort not to watch Dave while he was shirtless.

College is hard. Bluh. But you survive the first year, and to celebrate you, and Dave, and Jade, and Rose, you all decide to go clubbing ( though you weren’t really sure you were interested in going out, you were worried about how you did on your finals, Dave mentioned how he wanted to try and out drink Rose, which is an impossible task, and you decided to be designated driver ).  
In the end, they do get drunk as fuck, and Jade insisted on making you dance with the three of them. You do, but chicken out and excuse yourself to go hide in the bathroom when it comes time to dance with Dave.  
You drive everybody home at about four thirty in the morning, dropping the girls off at Rose’s apartment (because you’re too shy to go into Jade’s dorm those girls are scary), and you basically have to carry Dave inside.  
He clings into your shoulders, smushing his face into the crook of your neck, and he bites you a couple of times by the time you get him inside. You drag him into his room, but he doesn’t let go when you sit him on the edge of his bed.  
“Dave? Hey, I need you to let go now. It’s time for bed now.”  
“Mmmmmno.” And then he /giggles/. “Nope, y’r sleepin’ with me t’night.”  
You smile gently, patting his arm. “No, Dave, I’m not. I’ve got to work things out with dad, you know I’m going back home for the summer.”  
He groans, clutching you tighter. “No. Don’ wantcha t’ go.”  
“I asked you if you wanted me to stay here and you said no. You didn’t care then.”  
“Yeeeeeeeaidid. Yes yes yes I did too care.”  
“Dave you are so drunk.”  
He giggles again. “Yeah. ‘N I love you.”  
Your heart thuds painfully.  
Oh.


End file.
